


It's selfish (but I love you)

by FromAnotherSun



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, F/F, Hanahaki Disease, Kinda?, warning: depictions of blood and vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 16:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromAnotherSun/pseuds/FromAnotherSun
Summary: O’ life, if thou art to end, then end.For if thou art to linger,the secret passions in mine heart shall fade,and that I cannot have.–Shokushi Naishinno





	It's selfish (but I love you)

**_oranthoptysis_ ** _(also_ **_spitting flower disease_** _,_ **_hanahaki disease_** _) - A disease in which an unspecified plant grows within someone suffering from perceived or real one-sided romantic love. The victim will begin to cough out petals with increasing intensity until either their feelings are returned and the entire plant is ousted from their body, or until the afflicted dies of blood loss and/or suffocation._

_The infection may be removed through a surgical process, though all of the victim’s feelings and emotions for their loved one will disappear and never return._

* * *

It’s funny, Lena thinks, that someone’s end could come from a flower of all things.

It’s funny not in the “haha, what a joke” way, but rather in a “haha, life is a goddamn joke” way, filling Lena’s mouth with a bitter taste as she watches a coffin being lowered into a grave.

She’s not overly familiar with the deceased; he was a middle-aged businessman, one of Lex’s old cronies still sitting on her board of directions.

Correction: one of Lex’s old cronies who _used to_ sit on her board. Someone who used to tie up meetings with insincere platitudes and an insuppressible lust for Lena’s position and power. Someone who used to terrorize half of her assistants before turning around to throw pretty and blatant lies in Lena’s direction. Someone that vile who was finally done in by _flowers_ of all things.

_Hanahaki disease_ , people call it. _Flower spitting disease. Oranthoptysis_.

This isn’t Lena’s first run in with a victim. Her first memory of witnessing a flower being spat out was years and years— _decades_ ago, when she was but four.

It was the day she was adopted into the Luthor family.

Lena remembered being apprehensive when she set foot into the luxurious mansion for the first time, both a little excited and a little scared of meeting her new brother. Fortunately, Lex was what she had imagined and hoped for, someone charming and friendly who would welcome her into the house. He greeted her with a pleasant smile, even giving a reassuring wave.

On the other hand, her new mother took one look at her and clasped both hands over her mouth.

And then she coughed.

With an expression Lena could not decipher even to this day, Lillian Luthor coughed. She coughed, hands still clutching her face as if to stymie whatever was forcing its way out of her body. She coughed, body jerking as her chest seemed to convulse in pain. She coughed, the spasms growing more violent until she finally gave up and stopped fighting.

Lillian Luthor coughed, and petals were expelled from her lungs.

They burst forth from her lips in a confetti of red and yellow, fluttering to the floor as Lena watched on in naive awe and shock. Her father’s grip on her shoulder was almost painfully tight, but it was surely nothing compared to what her adoptive mother was currently suffering.

Lillian turned to Lionel, her eyes smouldering even as blood dripped down her chin.

“How could you do this to me? she asked.

“I’m sorry,” her whispered.

And Lena thought that perhaps it would be best to never fall in love.

* * *

“Is it true that many of your board members do not approve of your latest project?”

Lena inwardly sighs, though she does her best to lift her chin in a display of determination. She even smirks a little, tapping into her confidence as a scientist to bolster her image as a self-assured CEO.

“You are well informed, Miss Danvers,” she says to the reporter sitting across her.

Kara ducks her head a little, smiling almost bashfully, but she looks back up with clarity in her eyes as she awaits Lena’s answer.

“It is true,” Lena admits. “Several members have dismissed L-Corp’s newest undertaking as… an impossible endeavor and a waste of time and resources.”

“But you don’t agree,” Kara suggests. Her voice isn’t accusing; there’s a genuine curiosity and interest in Kara that supersedes the cold, interrogative questioning that Lena is more accustomed to facing, and she finds it refreshing to talk to a reporter that isn’t looking for some chink in her armor or some way to tear her down.

“I don’t,” Lena states firmly. “This is a new frontier, but look at how far technology can go. Just look at cancer: centuries ago, it was a lost cause, but now we have so many potential treatments for the different types, and it’s only a matter of time before an outright cure is found.”

“And it’ll probably be L-Corp who finds it,” Kara chuckles before returning to her more serious demeanor. “And so you believe you can find a cure for oranthoptysis too?”

“I will,” Lena vows.

Kara nods, scribbling in her notebook before closing it. Her entire posture shifts slightly, almost as if she were relaxing were it not for the fact that there’s a thoughtful, tentative expression on her face now.

“May I ask you something off the record, Miss Luthor?” she asks with an apologetic smile. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I was just curious about something...”

Lena lifts an eyebrow.

“Ask away,” she replies with less caution than she’d usually apply.

“Is there a… personal reason you’re looking to cure oranthoptysis?” Kara clears her throat before pressing on. “I mean most people just accept it as a part of life, you know? Like aside from those folk remedies and herbal treatments back in the fifteenth century, haven’t people pretty much gotten used to it as an inevitable part of being human?”

“You’re not wrong,” Lena concedes. She leans back in her chair, regarding Kara carefully as she decides to answer. “I have known people who were afflicted with it at one point or another… but I’m afraid to say this is more of a scientific challenge to me than anything else.”

Kara smiles.

“I think that’s pretty amazing of you,” she says. “Of all the things you could spend your time on… you decide to go and cure the flower spitting disease.”

“I haven’t done it yet,” Lena says wryly. “But I’m glad you don’t think it’s a complete ‘waste of time and resources.’”

“Of course not,” Kara protests. Her face falls a little. “I… My sister actually had flower spitting disease a few months back. It was… difficult seeing her in pain like that every day.”

Lena frowns in sympathy.

“What happened to her, if I may ask?” she inquires gently.

“She’s fine now,” Kara sighs. “She managed to let go of her feelings for her fiancée– _ex_ -fiancée before things got too serious.”

“I’m glad,” Lena murmurs.

Kara smiles again, but there’s a new softness to her gaze that makes Lena feel strangely… warm.

“That’s why I think you’re amazing,” Kara explains. “Scientific challenge or not, you’re working on a cure that could save so many people from pain and save so many lives. How could it be a waste, fighting for something like love?”

Lena chuckles, both in self-deprecation and in admiration of Kara.

“Unfortunately, people don’t see things as optimistically as you, Miss Danvers,” Lena reminds the two of them. “My board members could be right; this might be impossible after all.”

“If anyone can cure flower spitting disease, it’s you.”

Lena’s breath almost hitches from the unexpected declaration of faith. She’s heard empty flattery before, false compliments designed to curry favor with her or earn her obedience rather than sincere words of support. She’s also had actual encouragement from her very few friends, yet she’s never seen such unwavering trust and belief stated so resolutely, let alone from someone she’s only met a handful of times.

Kara doesn’t back down from what she said. She’s sitting fully upright again, her eyes practically ablaze with conviction. It’s almost as though she _knows_ Lena will succeed, _knows_ Lena will find a cure, and her certainty is enough to fill Lena with more hope than she knows what to do with.

“Miss Danvers–” Lena shakes her head, changing her mind. “Kara.”

If Kara is bothered by the dropped formality, she makes no indication of that. In fact, she actually seems pleased to be moving past last name basis judging from the brightness of her smile.

“Yes, uh, Lena?”

Lena smiles.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Lena’s not sure when she and Kara officially became friends.

It must have been sometime around their seventh interview, when Kara casually invited Lena out for dinner after they wrapped up work. Or perhaps it was slightly earlier than that, when Kara randomly dropped off a takeout box on Lena’s desk before taking her leave. The change in their relationship might also have been later, when they met outside of Lena’s office for the first time to randomly chat during brunch.

Either way, Lena likes to joke that Kara wormed her way into Lena’s good graces through food.

(It’s more like she nestled her way inside Lena’s heart with her seemingly endless kindness, her ever patient presence, and unfailing ability to make Lena smile.)

Kara’s friendship inevitably brings Lena other friends, the only natural conclusion considering how people seem to gravitate towards Kara. Lena’s not the only National City loner that has been swept up in Kara’s sunny disposition, and she soon finds herself regularly laughing alongside the likes of Nia Nal, Winn Schott, Querl Dox, Alex Danvers, and others.

The only person more surprised than Lena by this turn of events is Sam.

“You actually have friends now?” Sam asks, incredulous. “Like enough for a whole… welcoming committee?”

Lena rolls her eyes.

“You don’t have to sound _that_ impressed,” she says, a little miffed by Sam’s confusion despite her own disbelief at how quickly her personal circle has expanded from the impressive count of one. Two, if you include Ruby.

“I _am_ that impressed,” Sam exclaims, throwing her hands up. “Since when does Lena Luthor trust that many people? The last time we met up—which was what, less than half a year ago? The last time we hung out you were all ‘Woe is me, I am alone in National City.’”

Lena almost wants to stick her tongue out at her longtime friend.

“I did not say that,” she insists petulantly.

“Oh, I guess I don’t need to move here then.”

Lena sighs, rubbing her temples. She suddenly wonders if it’s really wise to let her two most annoyingly friendly companions meet.  

“L-Corp needs its CFO here,” she states stubbornly. “And it’s not like you can back out now that Ruby’s transfer has gone through.”

“That’s true,” Sam shrugs. “Besides, I can’t wait to finally meet Kara.”

Lena can’t help the smile that comes to her upon hearing her best friend’s name. She feels a tinge of disappointment too, though she takes a sip of wine to smother it.

Right on cue, her phone beeps.

Lena swipes it quickly, laughing when she reads the message.

“Kara’s apologizing for the seventh time now for not being able to meet you today,” she informs Sam, who chuckles. “Oh, she sent a clip of what she’s doing right now.”

Sam blinks before leaning forward to squint at the video on Lena’s phone.

“Are those… _walruses_?”

The phone answers for her, several of the giant animals grunting loudly.

Lena snickers.

“Apparently her boss told her to get up close and personal with them all day today,” she says.  “It’s for some special on National City Zoo.”

Her phone buzzes once more, this time delivering a picture of Kara. The reporter is very visibly grimacing, her hair covered in unflattering green-grey gunk as she takes a selfie with one of the walruses. The walrus looks significantly happier than Kara does.

_‘Wish you were here.’_

Lena snorts at the caption. She’s about to show it to Sam when she suddenly breaks into a cough, almost spitting out her drink.

“Breathe,” Sam teases while patting Lena’s back. “I didn’t know you liked walruses that much.”

“I choked, okay?” Lena glares at her friend. There’s an itch in her throat that hasn’t gone away, so she downs her wine to soothe the need to cough again.

The tickling feeling returns hours after Sam has gone home, leaving with a promise to see each other again in a week. It’s like a small nudge in the back of Lena’s throat, gently scratching at her windpipe with every breath she takes. It’s small enough to not be a major annoyance, but it’s strong enough to constantly linger in the back of Lena’s mind.

It persists all the way to her bedtime, scraping her throat lightly even as she texts Kara goodnight. Chugging a glass of warm water, Lena hopes it’s enough to ward off this sudden cold so that she can sleep at the very least.

Right as she’s about to head off into dreamless sleep, Lena jerks awake, her body seized by a violent stream of coughs. Her stomach feels unsettled and she instinctively claps her hand over her mouth. Just as quickly as it came though, her fit stops, and Lena blearily stares through the darkness at the drops of wetness splattered on her palm.

Blood.

* * *

The first petal arrives alongside winter.

Lena is bundled up in one of Kara’s scarves when it happens. She’s walking next to Kara, who’s chatting excitedly about the last time she hung out with her cousin when Lena suddenly stops in her tracks.

Kara immediately comes to a halt as well, attuned as ever to Lena’s actions and responding accordingly. She places a worried hand on Lena’s shoulder.

“You okay?” she asks.

Lena is unable to answer. She grimaces, not willing to voice the pain that’s currently spreading through her chest. She recognizes the distinct feeling of thorns pushing out from within her lungs, though it’s not from prior experience but rather from the countless testimonies she’s read.

It’s begun, Lena realizes with dismay. It feels like a betrayal, actually, how her heart has fallen and doomed the rest of her body, cursing the other occupants of her ribcage. A seed had been planted in her chest long before she noticed, and now it has finally bloomed. The thorns pricking her now will only hurt more as the vines inside her grow, fed by the roots clawing their way through her lungs.

It makes sense, Lena silently acknowledges as Kara continues watching her closely with so much care and concern in her eyes.

It makes sense that Kara, who fills her heart with sunshine and laughter, also fills her lungs with stems and flowers.

“I’m sorry,” Lena sighs.

“For what?” Kara asks. She moves her hand to Lena’s arm, rubbing in a soothing manner.

The tickling in Lena’s throat starts again.

“I… I’m not feeling so well,” she says. “I know I promised to go to the zoo with you, but–”

“What? Lena, no. Your health comes before going to the zoo,” Kara chastises gently. Even as she speaks, she begins steering Lena in the other direction, back to her apartment. “Gosh, _I’m_ the one who’s sorry for dragging you out. Let me text Alex and tell her we’re not going–”

“No,” Lena interrupts. Much like she expected, Kara is as quick as ever to fret about her diminished health. She doesn’t want to ruin Zoo Day by forcing Kara’s absence, however, so she quickly downplays the situation. “I don’t think it’s anything serious. You should go with them.”

“Are you sure?” Kara frowns. “I don’t mind sitting this one out. You’re more important.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lena insists even as it’s becoming harder and harder to speak. “I think I just need some rest.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I _am_ sure.”

Kara sighs.

“Let me walk you back at least?”

“I’ll call my driver,” Lena says. Her voice is shorter than she’d like, but she pulls out her phone and dials for Kara to see.

Kara diligently stays by Lena as they wait for her ride to arrive. Lena feels a pang in her heart when Kara not so subtly steps to the other side of her, blocking the endless gusts of winter winds. She thanks Kara when they part ways, but the guilt from seeing the sad, downward turn of Kara’s lips only exacerbates the near-constant soreness in her chest.

“Where to, Miss Luthor?” the driver asks.

“L-Corp,” Lena answers swiftly. “I need to head into the labs.”

As the car begins moving, Lena rolls up the partition separating her driver from the backseat. She finally gives in then, hacking roughly into a tissue as she sits in self-imposed isolation. Every breath, every cough hurts, but it’s easier than holding it in for yet another minute.

When the attack is finally over, Lena examines the mess in her hands, exhausted. She doesn’t have the energy to be surprised when there’s a small object sitting in the sea of red, the corners of it stained with blood. It was pretty much expected, actually, and Lena can only smile wryly as she stares at a single, lone petal.

It’s white.

* * *

“Have you ever been in love?”

Lena begins regretting her question as soon as it leaves her mouth. It had slipped out inadvertently, leaking out against her will the moment she let down her guard.

She hates that part of herself sometimes, that perpetually curious side of her that yearns to know everything. It’s been particularly drawn to Kara as of late and while Lena understands _why_ , it certainly doesn’t make anything easier nor does it soothe the ever-present sting in her chest. Instead, all it does is ask questions that probably shouldn’t be asked, deliberately aggravating the increasing agony inside her lungs, all for the sake of morsels of information that could feed the masochistic longing in her heart.

Lena quietly hides a cough.

She watches as Kara slowly turns away from the stove, her head tilted at a contemplative angle while she considers what Lena just said.

“Have I ever been in love?” Kara echoes thoughtfully. She shifts slightly on her feet as she stares at Lena, no expression on her face.

“Sorry,” Lena mumbles. “I know that was a weird question–”

“Just once.”

Lena blinks.

Kara’s smiling now, the faintest upturn to her lips, and she gazes at Lena with a strange weight in her eyes that makes Lena wonder if Kara can see through her, see the garden growing inside her.

“Just once,” Kara repeats softly.

Against her better judgement, Lena fights back against the gravel in her throat to ask, “What happened?”

Kara chuckles, ducking her head.

“I don’t know,” she says after a pause. She glances around Lena’s kitchen, almost as if she’s searching for some answer written on the walls. She gives up quickly though, shrugging halfheartedly. “I don’t know.”

Lena nods as she inwardly berates herself, sensing that Kara could not or would not elaborate further. The growing itch in her throat has become far too distracting anyways, so Lena stands up from her seat at the kitchen counter while willing down the object trying to force its way up her windpipe.

“Sorry,” she rasps out. “I think I need to use the bathro–”

“Hold on.”

Kara suddenly reaches over the counter, grabbing Lena by the arm firmly. She frowns, a deep crease between her eyebrows as she studies Lena’s face.

“Are you sure this is just a cold?” Kara asks, worry in every syllable. “You looked like you were about to throw up for a second there…”

“I’m fine, Kara,” Lena lies. She smiles reassuringly. “Really, it’s just a small cough. It’ll go away.”

“Don’t let it get worse,” Kara warns, releasing her grip. “Let me know if you get a fever or anything, okay?”

“You might as well stay here if you’re so insistent on nursing me,” Lena jokes.

“Don’t tempt me,” Kara grins mischievously. Her expression gives way to yet another indiscernible, gentle smile. “I care about you, okay?”

Lena swallows down a petal.

“Thank you,” she says hoarsely. “Thank you.”

Lena pays the price later, puking up an entire handful of scattered white and red scraps when she’s alone again. But it’s worth it; Kara makes it worth it. Kara makes it worth it with her freely offered smiles and everlasting warmth. She makes it worth it with her soul-embracing hugs and her boundless gifts of hope. She makes it _all_ worth it—the pain, the suffering.

Lena’s pretty sure she’s just indulging herself at this point, repeatedly seeking out Kara’s kindness instead of finding some way to taper off her feelings.

How could she when Kara makes her so _happy_?

Still, Lena can’t help but wonder how much time she has left.

* * *

Life has a strange way of showing mercy.

Lena’s coughing fits grow increasingly more frequent and intense, and in just a matter of weeks she is reduced to outright vomiting entire bursts of red and white. Yet despite the randomness of the times her illness chooses to manifest, Lena’s secret has yet to be discovered by Kara.

Sam is the one who finds her first, hunched over a toilet in L-Corp.

Lena’s pretty sure her CFO was saying something about her not coming back to the office after a meeting, but it’s all static to her ears as she heaves up yet another mouthful of petals. It’s nothing short of misery, and Lena almost wants to rip out her organs just to stop the burning inside her chest.

Sam’s presence does lighten the pain, just a little bit, and Lena does her best to focus on Sam when she begins to stroke her back like a mother would do for a sick child.

“Let it out,” Sam advises calmly. “Don’t try to hold it in. Get as much out as you can. Don’t let it sit inside you.”

Tears stream down Lena’s face as she retches into the toilet bowl. She’s not sure she has a say in following Sam’s words; the flowers in her chest are determined to expel themselves regardless of what Lena does, and she’s not sure she could stop them even if she tried.

Still, there’s something encouraging in the way Sam continues to urge her to _let it out, don’t let it sit there and rot_. It feels like an hour, but probably closer to four minutes when Lena finally stops spitting out petals. Tired, she slumps against the bathroom wall as she sits on the floor, too weak to get up.

Sam takes a seat across her, hugging her knees as she watches her friend sympathetically.

“It’s Kara, isn’t it?” she asks.

Lena’s silence is the only answer she needs.

“How did it feel?” Lena finally croaks after several long minutes.

“Hm?” Sam shifts closer, handing over some toilet paper.

“How did it feel after the surgery?” Lena asks, spitting out a bit more blood into the toilet before taking the offered roll. She slowly begins the process of cleaning up as Sam hums thoughtfully next to her.

“That’s… That’s a hard question to answer,” Sam confesses with an apologetic smile. She sighs before continuing, “I mean the surgery makes it so that you don’t _feel_ anymore, you know?”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Sam confirms. “I didn’t feel anything for him, nothing at all.”

Lena closes her eyes, letting out a shaky exhale.

“But you loved him,” she mutters. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

“I believe so,” Sam says wistfully. “I must have, right? But after they took it out… I didn’t feel anything for him anymore. I couldn’t. And I can’t remember what it was like when I did.”

A tide of anguish rushes over Lena, instantly flooding her core with frustration, desperation, and devastation in a singular wave of heartache that brings tears back to her eyes. She doesn’t have the will to fight it, so she lets out a sob and lets Sam pull her into her arms.

“I can’t do that,” Lena whispers. “I can’t… I can’t give Kara up.”

Sam lets out a heavy sigh.

“You’ll die at this rate if you don’t,” she points out. “You have to either let your feelings go away or… have them be taken away.”

Lena clutches Sam’s lapels tightly, her foolish heart already craving Kara’s warmth. She doesn’t have to dwell on her friend’s words for long, for she knows that only one of those three options isn’t impossible.

“I’ll find the cure,” Lena says. “I have to.”

Sam sighs yet again.

“Will you have enough time?”

Lena knows the answer to that question—they both do—so she doesn’t bother answering. Instead, she slowly pulls away as she asks, “How did you do it? How did you find the strength to do it?”

“Ruby,” Sam replies. “I did it for Ruby.”

* * *

Lena’s secret doesn’t remain one for much longer.

She’s not sure which secretary blabbed or which intern caught her coughing out flowers. All she knows is that one day, there’s a muted hush in L-Corp, one that follows her everywhere she goes. Jess breaks the news, explaining the subdued atmosphere and endless stares filled with pity and sympathy.

Even her board members lay off, no longer criticizing her continued investments into finding a cure. Some look appropriately concerned while others are clearly waiting for her to puke to death, though Lena pays them no mind. She doesn’t have the time to, and she even considers turning Kara away when Jess says the reporter has stopped by for a visit.

Kara is evidently also aware that time is of the essence, for she immediately corners Lena as soon as she sets foot into her office.

“Please, you have to get the surgery,” she pleads, grabbing Lena by the shoulders in desperation. “You can’t go on like this, Lena. I keep watching you get sicker and sicker and... God, I should have _realized_.”

“I didn’t want you to,” Lena admits. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why?”

Lena smiles, bittersweet.

“Because you care so much,” she answers gently. “And I know what you want me to do. But I can’t do it.”

Kara’s face falls even more, as if it that is even possible with how upset she is right now.

“Lena, you’ll _die_ ,” she says forcefully. “You could collapse any day now and–”

“I need to find the cure,” Lena cuts in. She knows it’s an underhanded move, but she brings up an old conversation, one always tucked inside her heart. “You said I could, remember? If anyone can cure oranthoptysis, it’s me.”

God, the stricken look on Kara’s face _hurts_. Lena resigns herself to the idea that this pain is yet another consequence of her love, and so she bears it even as Kara retracts her hands.

Kara breathes in sharply, and she actually looks angry when she opens her mouth again. Before she can speak, however, there’s a knock on the door and it opens before Lena can say a word.

Lillian Luthor of all people walks in, her head held high, imperiously.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, blatantly scrutinizing Kara.

Kara lets out her breath slowly.

“Not at all,” she finally says. She gives a long, meaningful look at Lena. “I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

And then she leaves.

Lena sighs.

“What do you want?” she asks her mother bluntly. “Here to lecture me about the follies of love?”

Lillian purses her lips.

“No, actually,” she says coolly. “I’m here to tell you to get that plant removed right away.”

“I’m not going to.”

“And why not?” Lillian challenges. She crosses her arms, clearly on the verge of a scowl, but Lena is too tired to falter to her mother of all people.

“I’m not going to give up my feelings for the person I love,” she says firmly.

Lillian rolls her eyes and scoffs.

“You’re going to die–”

“You think I don’t know that?” Lena snaps. Her harsh tone is enough to wipe the derisive look off of Lillian’s face, but she presses on, far beyond the point of restraining herself by now. “I don’t need you to come wandering into my life after years of silence to tell me something I already know.”

“I’m telling you because I’m worried about you,” Lillian hisses. She unfolds her arms, leaning forward almost menacingly. “We are the last two Luthors left and if you want to die of _flowers_ –”

“How do you feel about Dad?”

There’s no true malice in Lena’s question, but it stops Lillian cold all the same. Her mother’s fury instantly abates, disappearing into the air as a ghost of melancholy settles down instead. An unreadable expression is back on her face, and Lena figures she will never really understand her adoptive mother.

“You won’t change your mind on this?” Lillian asks, her voice strangely calm.

“I won’t,” Lena affirms. “I can’t.”

Her mother immediately turns around, no doubt abandoning this lost cause. Before she takes the last step out of Lena’s office though, she pauses.

“Honey,” she says without turning around. “Mixing honey with water can help ease the pain, even just a little bit.”

The door closes behind her, and just like some ephemeral phantom of the past, Lillian Luthor is gone.

* * *

Lena turns her phone off.

She doesn’t have much choice about that; leaving it on means leaving a connection to Kara, one that could be used to pull her out of the depths of L-Corp. She can’t afford that, not now, not when she’s on the edge of finding some breakthrough that can lead to success.

Lena wonders if desperation is what’s leading to this baseless confidence. She’s made leaps and bounds in her research, yes, but there’s nothing so far that would be able to stop the garden threatening to suffocate her. Still, she continues her work with a renewed fervor, experiment after experiment, pushing on relentlessly with the taste of salvation just around the corner.

Her hope is unfounded though, a fact that is highlighted each time she has to stop to throw up another clump of bloody petals. They’re almost entirely red at this point, only a few specs of white left unstained. It’s a stark reminder of the inevitable end, and Lena can feel her mortality clawing at her, weighing down her every movement with fatigue and weakness.

She’s coughing up yet another flower into a second waste bin when her vision begins to blur. Lena’s not sure if it’s from the exhaustion or the neverending pain, but the result is all the same.

She collapses.

Lena doesn’t have the strength to even cry anymore as she wheezes helplessly on the floor. Her vision grows dimmer by the second, a strange consolation, and she feels the rest of her senses slipping away bit by bit. The last thing she’s aware of is warmth suddenly enveloping her hands, and with her final conscious thought, Lena pretends it’s Kara.

And then everything vanishes.

* * *

Lena wakes up in a hospital, as expected.

Kara’s by her side, still gripping her hand tightly. She looks asleep from the way she’s slumped against the edge of Lena’s bed, but she immediately jolts upright when Lena so much as twitches her fingers.

Their eyes meet.

“I’m sorry,” Lena whispers.

Kara closes her eyes, and it almost seems like it takes all of her strength to open them again.

“Please,” she begs softly. “Please get the surgery. I can’t– I can’t lose you, Lena… So _please_.”

Lena can hear the abject anguish that usually lingers under Kara’s skin, hiding within the cage of bones protecting her heart. The pain resonantes inside Lena as well, but she doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to do because she already knows what must be done.

“I’m sorry,” Lena repeats. She faces away from Kara, unable to watch the love of her life cry.

In the distance, she hears people—Alex and Sam?—arguing. Their voices are distant, however, muffled by the hissing of the machines prolonging her life and smothered by the sniffs she hears to her left. The medication they’ve no doubt pumped inside her do little to dampen the pain she feels every time Kara lets out a sob.

“Lena…”

She slowly turns back to her friend.

“You have to live,” Kara insists quietly, urgently. “There’s so much you haven’t done yet, so much left to do… Who’s going to cure this if you’re dead?”

Lena does her best to lift a corner of her mouth.

“L-Corp has other brilliant scientists,” she points out. “And…”

“And…?”

“The things I haven’t done yet… I can’t imagine doing them without _her_.”

A series of coughs seize Lena’s body, and this time Kara is the one to tear her eyes away. Lena’s sure she’s never seen Kara so devastated before with the way she buries her face in her hands, fingers shaking with despair. It’s almost enough to make her heart sway, but Lena knows. Lena knows there’s no way she can live in a sunless world, not after how much light Kara has brought into her life.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I’m sorry, Kara.”

Kara looks up, her eyes as bright and beautiful as ever in spite of everything.

“Lena, _please_ ,” she pleads. “Nobody could be worth this pain. Nobody could be worth dying for.”

Lena smiles, because what’s but one more regret when it’s already over?

“You are.”

Lena’s words are met with silence. She waits patiently, for that’s all she can really do: wait until the guilt hits Kara. Lena doesn’t blame her in the least, but she’s sure that’s the conclusion someone as selfless as Kara would reach, and perhaps it’s a fitting punishment for Lena, having to witness her love’s heartbreak in her final moments and taking it with her to her grave.

Kara slowly pulls back, her hand slipping out of Lena’s. A myriad of expressions pass across her face, none of which Lena can read, and she sits back in her chair silently.

A moment passes.

And then Kara coughs.

Kara coughs, releasing a shower of red and white into the air. It’s all so familiar to Lena, the shape, the size, the color of the petals falling onto her lap. She can only watch in disbelief as Kara coughs again, her whole body heaving with the force of trying to expel something. She’s hunched over now, gripping Lena’s hand like some lifeline as she spits out petal after petal… and thorn-covered stems.

Lena freezes, but then it’s her turn to join in the coughing. She feels the plant in her chest move, retracting its tendrils from her lungs as it makes its way fragment by fragment up her throat. The barbs prick and stab at her windpipe, but the pain is nothing compared to the realization that it’s _over_ , that it’s _done_ , and that the flowers in her chest will grow no more.

Because Kara loves her.

Everything becomes a blur after that, and Lena is only vaguely aware of people rushing into the room. She’s more preoccupied with clinging to Kara’s hand as they both puke up vines and roots and seemingly endless flowers. Lena’s process takes considerably longer, but Kara remains her steadfast anchor until she finally ejects every last vestige of the plant inside her lungs.

“That was terrible,” Kara mumbles later when they’re finally alone again, cuddled together in a clean bed. “It was worth it, but it was terrible.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lena asks.

Kara shoots her a look.

Lena chuckles.

“I’m sorry,” she says for the umpteenth time. “Really, I am.”

“So am I,” Kara sighs. She reaches over to cup Lena’s face, almost hesitant. “You really went through a lot because of me, huh?”

“It was worth it,” Lena states quietly. “I would die for you.”

Kara smiles softly.

“Then would you live for me?”

Tears well up in Lena’s eyes as she turns her head slightly, kissing Kara’s fingertips.

“Yes,” she promises with all her heart. “Yes.”

Kara leans forward and brushes her lips against the tip of Lena’s nose.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I am in love with you.”

Lena kisses her.

* * *

“Do I get to tell you ‘I told you so’ now?”

Lena sighs in exasperation.

“Yes, you do,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“I told you so!” Kara declares loudly. Her eyes glint under the moonlight as she quickly gives Lena a peck on the cheek. “I told you you’d be the one to cure oranthoptysis.”

“Kara Danvers, everyone,” Lena announces to the city below them. “Pulitzer winning reporter who can see the future.”

Kara laughs, and Lena giggles in return, snuggling closer to Kara’s warmth as they stare out over Lena’s balcony. A hand immediately wraps around her shoulder, holding her securely as Kara beams at her.

“Look how far you’ve come,” Kara says, still grinning proudly.

“Look how far _we’ve_ come,” Lena corrects. “I couldn’t have done this without you, you know.”

“I’m pretty sure you would have found a way... but you have a point,” Kara quickly concedes when Lena narrows her eyes. “Really though, I’m proud of you. Just think of all the lives you’re going to save.”

“It’s still a little hard to believe,” Lena admits. “But I’m glad nobody will ever have to go through what we did ever again.”

“Agreed,” Kara nods. “I mean we got our happy ending in the end, but…”

“It wasn’t fun puking up flowers and dealing with internal bleeding all the time,” Lena finishes dryly.

Kara chuckles.

“Definitely not,” she says. “But back to our happy ending… I have something to give to you.”

Lena lifts an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

Kara smiles widely.

“My life,” she says, dropping down onto a knee.

Lena isn’t surprised when Kara pulls out a ring, but it fills her with elation all the same. Kara must be aware of this, for there’s zero hesitation or fear in her movements. She even preemptively slips the ring on Lena’s offered finger, and she visibly quivers in delight when it fits there perfectly.

“Will you let me stay by your side for the rest of our lives?” Kara asks.

They both already know the answer, but Lena still replies nonetheless.

“Yes,” she says. “Of course.”

“Then my life is yours,” Kara states grandly. She stands, taking Lena’s hand as she does so.

Lena smiles.

“And mine has always been yours,” she says as she languidly pulls Kara into a deep kiss, one that fills her lungs with joy. The feeling spreads through her body with each beat of her heart, pulsing through her nerves and veins until they reach every corner of her soul.

They keep their foreheads pressed together when they finally separate for air. Despite their close proximity, Lena can still see Kara’s giddy grin, her fiancée no doubt as satisfied as she is.

She’s _happy_ , Lena thinks as she pulls Kara into another kiss. _They’re_ happy.

“Kara?”

“Yeah?’

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> fromanothersun.tumblr.com


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